


Bluebird

by astraplain



Series: Bluebird [1]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 23:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4643250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astraplain/pseuds/astraplain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wandering the beach alone, Brian discovers an injured young man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bluebird

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written in 2005 for the QAF Quoin challenge - where Justin is 17 and working The Quoin, an exclusive whorehouse. The profile I was given was Cenzontle Azul by Cynthia.

He walked unsteadily along the beach in the pre-dawn gloom, stopping occasionally to take a mouthful from the almost empty bottle of Beam. He'd tossed his sandals aside a while back, and cursed at the sight of the dark mass of rocks that lay in his path. He was too stubbornly drunk to consider going around or turning back. Over then and the rocks be damned.

He tilted his head back and drained the bottle, smashing it against the rocks defiantly. He was Brian Kinney damnit and he was going that-a-way.

With far less than his usual grace, he stepped onto the first rock. 

It cried out.

"What the...?"

Another step

A moan.

A cautious step.

A whimper.

Damn. No Beam when it was really needed. Typical. Brian balanced unsteadily between two rocks and looked around. Nothing. Nothing.

Wait...

A flash of movement. Something pale against the dark rocks just at the water's edge.

A prolonged cry.

Silence.

Oh, damn.

Hopping down off the rocks Brian moved quickly as he could along the edge of the rocks down to the water's edge.

"No," he cried out. Before his brain caught up with the rest of him he was lunging for the young man propped against the rocks, grasping his wrist and pulling the knife away from his bloody throat and chest. "What do you think you're doing?" Brian demanded, pointing the blood-slick knife at the injured youth. Furious he turned to fling the pocked knife into the ocean but the blond caught his arm and shook his head.

Brian frowned, not understanding so the young man mimed swimming to indicate his concern that the blade could hurt innocent swimmers. Brian nodded and then frowned as the blond shivered his hand pressing against his injured throat.

"Think you can walk?"

The blond blinked, and then nodded slowly, struggling to rise. He wore only swim shorts and his blood-spattered towel lay off to one side.

Brian leaned down carefully and grabbed it, draping it over the young man's shoulder's for warmth and tucking the ends around his neck to stop the blood. It seemed that the wound wasn't too severe as the bleeding seemed to be slowing already. At least he hoped it was.

It was getting lighter now; the sun would be up soon. Thanks to the Beam he hadn't exactly been walking straight lines, so now that he was suddenly, annoyingly sober, he would be able to get this kid some help. He should probably just put him in a cab to the local hospital, but one look in those blue eyes and he knew he couldn't do that. No, he'd get the boy cleaned up and settled in the hotel room then have the hotel call a local doctor. That way maybe they could avoid all the messy questions.

Especially the questions Brian himself didn't want to think about - like why he was half dragging some kid he'd only seen once before across what felt like half a desert to take care of him so the kid wouldn't have to tell anyone he'd tried to kill himself.

Damn it. He knew he should have turned back when he saw those rocks.  
+++++

 

"He's a lucky boy, Mr. Kinney. The wounds look bad, and there will be some scarring, but nothing vital was hit and he will recover. I'm more concerned about the cause. You say you found him like this?"

"Yes, on the beach early this morning." Brian closed the bedroom door of the suite, letting the boy sleep in his bed while he offered the local doctor some orange juice and a pastry.

"And no sign of any attackers or a weapon?" The doctor took a seat and accepted the food and drink gratefully. It was just before 7:00 am and Brian's call to his emergency service had brought him out before breakfast.

"None." Brian replied smoothly, not willing to reveal this boy's secrets to someone he didn't know in a country where he didn't know how suicide attempts were treated.

"Was he conscious?"

"Barely. That's how I found him; I heard his cries. I tried to ask him a few simple questions but he either couldn't or wouldn't answer. Is it possible his vocal cords were damaged?"

"It's a remote possibility. In this case, I certainly hope not." The doctor leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Mr. Kinney, this boy is a local, he works for an... entertainment establishment, the Quoin. He is a singer - Cenzontle Azul they call him, the Blue Bird with 400 voices. But he also spends time in town, especially with the little ones and the elders. He is good with them, always kind and patient. And he draws and makes pottery." The doctor hesitated for a moment, looking at the closed bedroom door as if seeking answers beyond it. After a long moment he looked back at Brian. "But he is always sad."

"Perhaps it is not my place to tell you this, but," the doctor shrugged, "I do not know that it will do any harm now. His name is Justin. He was stolen from his family when he was very young and brought to work at the Quoin. They wanted him because he was beautiful and unmarked. After today he will not be unmarked."

"So you're telling me he'll be a homeless hustler."

"No. Justin is not 18 yet; he is untouched. He is a singer and clients may photograph him, but no one may touch him yet. But he will turn 18 in three weeks and then," the doctor shrugged again.

"I can't believe this!" Brian exploded. "We're in Mexico, not in the Dark Ages."

"I imagine there are establishments with similar arrangements in your United States," The doctor responded mildly as he pushed away from the table. "I must go." He set two packets of pills down onto the table. "Give Justin these as directed on the envelope. He's allergic to many medications, but he should tolerate these. If not, call me. And Mr. Kinney, if there is nothing holding Justin here, he might need nothing more than encouragement to go seek his family." The doctor reached into his bag and extracted a sealed envelope. "Give this to Justin. But don't tell him where you got it, understand?"

"Of course."

The doctor shook Brian's hand, giving him a long appraising look. "If you need anything..."

"I'll call. Thank you." Brian closed the door behind the retreating doctor, then tidied up the breakfast tray and went to check on the sleeping blond. He was curled up on his side, layers of white bandages covering his throat and upper chest.

Brian walked quietly into the room and adjusted the curtains to close the gap in the middle, blocking out the bright sunlight, fussing unnecessarily until he ran out of reasons to linger in the room and reluctantly left. He was closing the door softly when he realized that Justin was awake and watching him.

"You're awake."

A nod.

"Throat hurt?"

A nod.

"Need something to drink?"

Nod.

"Orange juice?"

A face.

"Okay. Water?"

Nod.

"Be right back."

Brian fixed a small glass with a few cubes of ice and half-filled it with water. He brought it to Justin and helped the boy sit before letting him drink.

"Not too fast."

Justin drained the glass, then leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes. He looked exhausted, and much younger than 17. Brian sighed and ran his hand over his own face. How did he go from working on a perfectly good drunk to this?

"Look, Justin?" The boy nodded. "I'm Brian and I'm tired and this is a huge bed. Is it OK with you if I just climb in on this side and crash for a while? I'll try not to hog the covers or anything, okay?"

The boy smiled a little and nodded.

"Good. The doc left pills for you. They're on the nightstand. Wake me if you need anything." Kicking off his shoes, Brian stripped off his clothes, leaving on his underwear in deference to the wounded boy. He climbed into bed, sighed twice and fell asleep.

+++++

The smell woke him; nothing like a cheeseburger and fries to tempt a teenager. Justin hovered in the doorway, peering out from under that mop of hair, arms wrapped so tightly around himself he might be leaving bruises. Brian was glad to see that he'd put on the robe he'd left for him. It was mid-afternoon and the air conditioning, although turned down, was still running.

"Come eat before it gets cold," he suggested, looking up briefly from the computer and smiling before going back to work. Truthfully, he wasn't really working, he just didn't want Justin to feel self-conscious; Brian hated when people watched him eat.

Casually Brian reached out for his turkey sandwich, taking a bite and looking up just as the boy settled into his seat. Justin smiled shyly and reached for the can of soda. Opening it and drinking thirstily.

"How's the throat?"

Justin shrugged and selected a fry.

"Your meds are still on the nightstand if you need them."

Justin shook his head and took a tentative bite of the burger, chewing carefully. He kept his eyes down, though Brian could see him stealing furtive glances around the room, eyes never resting anywhere for long.

"Do you want me to call anyone and let them know where you are?"

For a second his eyes locked onto the older man's and there was pure panic in those blue depths, then he broke the gaze, shaking his head.

"Look," Brian said carefully, "I don't know what this is about but," he slid the envelope the doctor had given him across the table hoping that he wasn't making a huge mistake.

Justin stared at it for a long minute and then slowly reached for it.

"I'm gonna go out on the patio for a while. Why don't you relax? Just let me know if you need anything." Brian gathered up his materials and the rest of his sandwich. Just before he left he turned back to look at the boy.

"You're safe here, Justin. No pressure, no expectations. The only things I ask are that you don't leave without telling me and don't try that again. Okay?" he gestured at the bandaged neck and the blond stopped chewing and looked up warily though those bangs. After a long hesitation he slowly nodded and continued eating.

Brian could feel Justin watching as him as he crossed the room and walked out onto the patio. He set his things down on the table and angled the lounge chair so that he would have a view of the whole hotel room just by turning his head.

Brian finished his sandwich quickly and then made a show of putting on suntan lotion. Quick glimpses into the room showed him that Justin was still at the table. He was still looking at the unopened envelope, though his plate was now empty.

Brian caught Justin's eyes glancing in his direction and pretended to be reaching for his drink. Brian turned away, closing his eyes and tried to block out the memory of the previous evening.

He didn't do regret, but he was feeling something suspiciously like that when he remembered watching the blond move across the small stage, only a piano accompanying him as he sang of love and passion. His voice was seductive, his movements sensuous as he moved to the rhythm, compelled by the music rather than choreography.

Clad in a black and white tuxedo, he was alone on stage, enthralling the all male audience for more than an hour with only his voice. Singing in Spanish, French and English, he brought more than one of the audience to tears with his finale, a poignant rendition of "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" that had Brian himself longing for home.

It was after the show, while Brian was lingering over his drink and sizing up his prospects for the evening from the other audience members that he overheard.

"You going to see Cenzontle's other show?" an audience member at a nearby table at the cabaret-style theater asked his companion.

"What other show? We've already heard him sing." The younger man asked.

"Not like this. The boy does two shows a night, one here on stage, and a second, more private performance in the crystal room."

"The crystal room? But isn't that where the boys pleasure themselves while men watch?"

"Wait until you hear him “sing” in there. Come on, we want to get a good seat."

Brian watched the men leave and he swallowed hard. Could it be true? He closed his eyes and pictured the fragile blond as he sang the final number, tears blurring his blue eyes, his body taut with longing as he stood on the very edge of the stage.

Afterwards, as the applause filled the room, a regular patron presented the singer with a gift basket full of what seemed to be art supplies. The singer broke into a genuine smile and for a moment, the room seemed to brighten.

Brian shook his head and looked at the darkened stage where two workers were clearing away the flowers that had been thrown at the boys feet.

The unbidden image of the perfect blond forced to pleasure himself while prying eyes watched sickened Brian. There was something special about this boy, something that made Brian want to protect him; to keep him safe and happy. He ached to find him and wipe away the tears he'd seen in those captivating blue eyes. Shaking his head at the strangeness of his thoughts, Brian pushed away from the table, leaving the cabaret quickly.

He found his way to the nearest bar and purchased a glass of Jim Beam, trying to dull his aching need for the blond. Hours later he was on the beach with his bottle of Beam when he found the same blond singer trying to kill himself. Now the singer was here.   
What was he going to do?

+++++

Brian woke up suddenly, heart racing as he leapt off the lounge and hurried into the suite. The main room was empty, the dirty dishes and room service cart gone. The bedroom door was closed. Fighting off panic, he opened the door quietly and smiled at the mop of blond on the white pillow. The blankets were pulled up high around the pale body so that little of the boy's face could be seen. Either he was sleep or he was faking pretty well.

Brian looked over at the nightstand and noted that the medication packets were open. He looked back at the blond, then counted the pills, relieved to see that the proper dosage had been taken. He returned the packets, annoyed at himself.

Retreating to the outer room, he closed the bedroom door. He looked over at the table and saw the envelope the doctor had left was open and a piece of paper was lying unfolded on top, a pencil off to the side. Unable to resist he picked it up, annoyed to see a smiley face drawn at the top. Little shit.

Scanning the print out quickly he sent a silent thank you to the doctor. The man must have been waiting for an opportunity to give this to Justin. It was a missing child report for a Justin Taylor, taken from a Pittsburgh, PA daycare playground twelve years ago. It included a physical description and a contact name and number for reaching his parents. Brian smiled.

Setting the paper down he reached for his phone. Time to make some plans.  
+++++

"Evening, Sleeping Beauty. Hungry?"

Justin yawned and nodded, blinking against the light as he stumbled towards the table.

"You ever going to talk to me?" Brian asked as he uncovered a big bowl of chicken noodle soup. "Don't make faces at it. You want something different, ask."

Justin shook his head, sighed and ate the soup, crumbling a lot of crackers into it.

"You want dessert?" Brian asked when Justin finally finished the soup.

Justin nodded hopefully.

"Ice cream?"

A nod.

"Good guess, then." Brian reached into the room service cart and opened the special container containing the ice cream he had ordered with dinner.

Justin's eyes lit up and he reached for the dish, his hand brushing Brian's. He flinched, the ice cream almost falling, but Brian managed to steady it. Justin blushed and looked away.

"Justin?"

The boy wouldn't look at him. His shoulders were hunched up and he seemed to be folding in on himself. Brian leaned back, trying to calm the boy by putting distance between them.

"Better eat your ice cream before it melts."

Justin looked up slowly, warily. He reached out tentatively and picked up his spoon, then took a tiny bite of the treat. Slowly he relaxed until he was able to finish the whole serving.

"Justin, I don't want to rush things, but I'm only here for three more days. I think you know that I read what was in the envelope." He smirked at the boy's knowing grin. "I live in Pittsburgh. You can come back with me. I'll help you contact your parents, give you a place to stay if you need it. The money isn't an issue so don't worry about that, we can work that all out later. I just need to know if you want to do this; you have to tell me what you want."

Justin nodded his understanding, then reached out to Brian and touched his arm very lightly. He pointed to his own throat then made a slashing motion and shook his head.

"You weren't trying to kill yourself?" Brian asked, trying to puzzle out the message.

The blond nodded.

"Then why..." he suddenly remembered what the doctor had said and understood. "Because you're almost eighteen. Because you don't want to work at the Quoin anymore and you don't think they'll let you go unless you're no longer beautiful."

Justin nodded.

"Is that why you won't talk? The damage wasn't really that bad was it? You can still talk can't you?" Brian pressed forward. "You just won't because you're afraid that if you still have your voice they won't let you go."

Justin just looked at him.

Brian leaned back in his chair, relaxed now. "So we see the doctor tomorrow for a recheck. He gives us a note that tells us you can't talk. I'll go to the Quoin and get your stuff for you and... what?"

Justin was shaking his head at him and gesturing.

"What? You don't want your things? You're sure? I could try to arrange... Okay, calm down. Forget it. We'll just have the doctor check you out then take care of the paperwork so you can get back into the US. You have anyone you want to say goodbye to?"

Justin thought for a moment, and then nodded.

"Okay, we'll do that the next day, and you can show me around a bit, all that tourist shit. I'll buy postcards. Whatever. We need to get you some clothes. Not too many, though. We'll go shopping when we get home." He frowned at the boy who was suddenly, silently sobbing. "What?"

Justin reached for the small tablet and pen that was kept by the phone, with shaking hands he drew a rainbow with birds flying over it.

Brian looked at it and shook his head. "I'm not singing." he insisted as he took the blond in his arms.  
+++++

"Okay, so we shopped - and survived, we filled out staggering amounts of paperwork in triplicate so you can leave the country. Now what?" Brian looked at the blond, pretending to miss his pleading looks towards the room service menu.

"I know," Brian announced, reaching out as if to grab the menu but bypassing it for a blank sheet of paper instead. In their shopping expedition, he'd bought drawing and writing tablets for the boy only to discover that while he was a fantastic artist, his writing skills were somewhat lacking. Apparently the Quoin didn't consider reading and writing to be necessary so the boy had learned what he could from the townspeople he'd befriended.

"Did you make a list of friends you wanted to see before we leave?"

Justin frowned and reached for the tablet and pen. He tapped his fingers against the room service menu on the way past and Brian laughed.

"I'm guessing that was a subtle hint that you're hungry. You want me to pick or do you?"

Justin reached for the menu.

"Then finish your list."

Justin tapped the pen against the menu and made a face. Brian laughed again.

Twenty minutes later Brian had the list and Justin was pointing out his choices on the menu.  
+++++

Maria hugged Justin again, gently brushing away his tears.

"You'll write me?"

He nodded solemnly.

She reached behind the counter and brought out a bag. "I guess I won't need to save these anymore." She shook her head sadly. "I'll miss you, little Bluebird. Who will sing to me and keep me company?" She pointed to a row of colorful drawings in cheap frames lining the walls over the magazine racks in the small store. "You see those, Mr. Brian? My little Bluebird drew every one of those. You take good care of him. You help him sing again."

"I'll do my best," Brian promised.

Maria reached behind the counter again and took out a small jar of golden honey, handing it to Brian. "You give him a spoonful of this morning and night in tea." She caressed Justin's face. "Just like that time when you were so sick and lost your voice, little bird. It will make you sing again in no time."

Brian thanked Maria for the honey, stepping back so Justin could accept one last hug. It was time for them to leave, before the parting became any harder.

Justin kissed Maria gently on the cheek and handed her the drawing he'd worked on most of the night. It was of the two of them together.

Maria pressed her hand to heart and watched her little Bluebird fly away.  
+++++

Brian watched as Justin walked along the water's edge, letting the water and wet sand pull at his feet. He seemed as if he were reflecting, or perhaps worrying. He barely touched his dinner, although he did manage to finish his dessert.

Long after the sun had gone down and it had turned cool, he finally stopped his relentless movement, turning towards the water and just staring out at it. He was there for a while before turning away decisively and returning to Brian who was waiting patiently on the patio.

Justin stopped beside Brian's chair and reached out to the older man, laying a hand on top of Brian's lightly for just a moment before retreating to bed.

Brian remained on the patio for a while longer, giving the boy some privacy before locking up and joining him in bed to sleep. Although Brian wouldn’t admit it, even to himself, it was getting harder to ignore the lithe body beside him. Brian was sure his gaydar was still working properly and he had caught the boy looking at him with more than passing interest throughout the day, but it was clear that, despite pleasuring himself for voyeuristic queers, the boy had no real experience. Perhaps some fumbling in the dark with other boys at the Quoin, but obviously nothing more. There was a desperate eagerness in the way Justin responded to casual touches that Brian understood, having grown up with little affection himself.

He had no idea what would happen once they were back in the States, but for now, he would do whatever he could to help the boy, even if it meant trying to put aside his asshole persona for a while.  
+++++

It was a mid-morning flight, leaving them just enough time for breakfast and a shower before the dash to the airport. Justin lingered at the patio doors staring out at the ocean but didn't go outside.

In the cab he turned his face away from the windows and looked just at Brian as he left the only home he'd known for the last twelve years. He was pale, and his hands were clammy.

Arriving at the airport, they were checked in quickly and shown to the VIP lounge for First Class ticket holders.

"You okay?" Brian asked quietly. They had taken seats away from the large windows and Justin was staring down at the carpet. He nodded without looking up.

"Want something to eat or drink?"

Justin shook his head, no.

"Okay, just sit here a minute. I want to go look at something in that shop."

Brian hurried into the little gift shop, quickly selecting an assortment of books and magazines and a rainbow-colored stuffed lizard with a Veracruz, Mexico t-shirt. He added some gum and mints and hurried back with a smile.

He dumped the bag on Justin's lap. "Surprise, kid. If I have to read a boring report on the way home, the least you can do is read some of this and pick out which of those books my son might like to have us read to him."

Justin shook his head in confusion. Brian had told him about Gus and Gus' mothers, but he didn't understand the book part.

"Gus' moms want me to read to Gus when he stays over, but I never know what books are good and what's crap, so you're gonna help me out. There are some kids books in there that are supposed to be good. I thought you might read them and let me know if they are worth reading to Gus or not."

Justin smiled, some of the tenseness easing; these weren't going to be too hard for him, he wouldn't embarrass himself. He peered into the bag and pulled out the lizard.

"What? He looked lonely so I thought you could keep him company."

Justin smiled and kissed the lizard's snout, then moved it towards Brian as if pretending the lizard was going to kiss him. Brian put a hand up to stop it.

"Sorry, I only accept the real thing." He usually didn’t indulge in such foolishness but the kid was a bundle of nerves and if the absurd toy helped comfort him even a little it was worth getting it.

Justin smiled and leaned over, giving Brian a timid kiss on the cheek. Brian smiled and returned the kiss. They leaned close and waited for the flight to board.  
+++++

"Mr. Kinney?" a flight attendant approached Brian just before landing. "Please remain in your seat with Mr. Taylor after we arrive at the gate. A representative of the airline will be escorting you to our special VIP lounge for your stay while in the Chicago airport.

Brian looked over at Justin, who was sleeping with his head pillowed on the stuffed lizard, before replying. "Is there a problem?"

"The representative will have more information, sir. Apparently there are some members of the press awaiting Mr. Taylor's arrival."

"Justin? Why?" Brian had called his assistant, Cynthia the previous day asking for her help in locating Justin's parents, but he hadn't heard back from her yet. He'd planned on checking in when he reached Chicago.

"That's all I know, sir." The flight attendant looked over at Justin and smiled. "Our PR manager is Helen Camus, she'll take care of things for you."

Brian thanked the woman and turned his attention back to Justin who was beginning to stir. He adjusted the blanket around the boy's thin shoulders and drew him close, ready to protect him from whatever was waiting for them in Chicago.  
+++++

Justin clutched at Brian's arm as an explosion of flashbulbs and questions greeted them when they deplaned. Their airline escort guided them to a waiting electric cart and they climbed on, both trying to keep their faces turned away from the flashes and noise that never stopped.

Brian held Justin's hand tightly, noting how pale the boy had gone. He resisted the urge to brush aside the long bangs and place a soothing kiss on the boy's forehead.

During the brief ride, Brian tried to calm Justin with his presence, holding Justin’s hand, leaning close to and whispering reassurances. When they were escorted into a private lounge, their guide introduced them to Helen Camus, the airport's public relation's manager before leaving them alone. Settled into comfortable chairs with beverages and snacks, Helen joined took a seat across from them.

"This must seem very overwhelming to you, Mr Taylor."

Justin nodded, his eyes not meeting hers, his one hand still holding tight to Brian's.

"Ms Camus, can you tell us what's happening out there? We're just coming back from Mexico."

"Mr. Kinney, I'm assuming it was you who found Mr. Taylor? When your... assistant was it?"

"Cynthia, yes."

"When Cynthia attempted to contact Justin’s parents, she was referred to their attorney. Apparently the news leaked out that Justin is coming home and the press got wind of it." Helen tilted her head slightly as if to indicate the foolishness of trying to stop the press. "Everyone involved would have preferred a much calmer homecoming for Mr. Taylor, especially with his injuries."

Justin nodded his agreement.

"So what do we do now?" Brian asked.

"You and Mr. Taylor will not be disturbed here. We will bring you whatever you might need - food, drink, magazines or other reasonable requests. Just use the phone there on the table and dial nine. When it is time for your flight you will escorted to the gate. We will do our best to ensure you are not disturbed." She stood up, regarding Brian critically. "I suggest that you contact your assistant as soon as possible, Mr. Kinney. She will have more information for you. Now that the press knows, time is of the essence."

Justin clutched at Brian’s arm, trying to get his attention. Brian looked over at him, smiling to let him know he understood what Justin wanted to know. “You mentioned Justin’s parents. Can you tell us anything about them? Are they still in Pittsburgh? Will arrangements be made for them to meet us at the airport?”

Helen hesitated, and Brian could tell she was knew more than she was willing to tell. He tried another line of questions. "Can you at least tell me what the press knows?"

"As far as I know, they only know that Mr. Taylor was missing for twelve years and is now returning. Perhaps your assistant has more information for you."

Brian nodded, shaking Ms Camus’ hand and thanking her. She shook Justin’s hand as well before leaving the men alone.

Justin went to freshen up and Brian used the opportunity to call Cynthia.

"Brian, thank goodness. I've been trying to get you all morning. I know you're traveling but I need to tell you some things right away." Calm, always in control Cynthia sounded as close to panic as Brian had ever heard her. He sat down. This wasn't going to be good.

"Go ahead, Cynthia, but make it quick. The kid's just in the other room."

"Okay. Justin Taylor's parents died in a plane crash ten years ago. He's the sole heir to the Carlton-Taylor fortune. The kid is worth millions, possibly billions. It's not going to be the quiet homecoming you were hoping for, Brian."

"What about other relatives? Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, sisters, brothers? Anyone else?"

"Of immediate relatives, there’s a grandfather in an assisted living facility in upstate New York, two aunts, an uncle, and a couple of cousins that I know of. The mother’s family didn’t like the father’s family so there was a big argument when Justin’s parents got married but since Justin’s mother was an only child, Justin is her sole heir. And Justin’s dad was very well off, even after the family drama – trust funds or something – so Justin gets all of that plus his dad was a successful businessman as well. And since the family essentially kicked them out, it was all left in trust for Justin."

"How'd the press find out?"

"No idea. Someone in the lawyer's office or the missing children's bureau had to have tipped them off. Listen, I took care of the loft like you asked, and made the appointments for the doctors and the tutor. I think we might want to see about adding some security just until this dies down. And I thought you would want to talk to the lawyer so I already scheduled it."

"You're good, Cynthia."

"Did you bring me presents?"

"Don't I always?"

"No."

"Well, then, it will be a surprise."

"Gee, thanks, boss. Bye."

Brian ended the call and looked towards the bathroom where the door remained closed. He debated with himself for half a minute then strode across the room, ready to break it down if necessary. At the last second the door opened and Justin emerged ghost pale and shaking, having obviously been sick.

Brian gathered the young man in his arms and held him tightly, rubbing circles on his back until he stopped shaking.

Justin pulled away, his faced flushing with embarrassment.

"A little too much excitement," Brian reassured him calmly. "Let me call for some ginger ale and crackers. That should help." He pointed Justin towards the sofa and watched as the boy picked up the stuffed lizard, holding it tightly as he stretched out on the sofa.

Brian picked up the phone and pressed nine. Immediately a woman answered.

"Yes? Is this Mr. Kinney or Mr. Taylor?"

"Mr. Kinney. Could we have some Ginger ale and saltines sent up? Mr. Taylor is feeling ill."

"Of course, sir. Would you like anything?"

"A turkey sandwich on whole wheat, no mayo and some coffee, please. And perhaps some magazines."

"Right away, sir. Does Mr. Taylor require a doctor?"

I don't believe so. I'll call again if he gets worse."

"Yes, sir. Have a good day." The woman ended the call. and Brian wandered the room, wishing for something to do. Justin had curled up facing towards the back of the sofa and Brian wished he had asked for a blanket to cover him.

He was considering making another call when the door opened and two airport employees entered pushing a cart. They greeted Brian pleasantly but quietly, aware that Justin not feeling well. They assured him that everything he needed was on the covered cart and insisted he call again if they could be of further assistance. Refusing a tip, they left as quickly as they arrived.

Brian uncovered the cart and smiled. there were several cans of ginger ale, packs of crackers, glasses, a bucket of ice, a carafe of coffee, and a turkey sandwich along with some shortbread cookies. On the second shelf was a pillow and a soft blanket along with an impressive stack of magazines – everything from GQ to Flaunt.

Picking up the blanket, he shook it out and carried it over to Justin who was quietly snoring. Brian draped it over the boy, then tucked it in around him tightly, aware again of how thin Justin was.

Returning to the cart, he selected a few magazines, gathered up his sandwich and the coffee, then picked up a pack of cookies as an after thought. He settled into a comfortable chair near the sofa and whiled away the rest of the layover waiting for sleeping beauty to awake.  
+++++

"We're here," Brian said, trying to sound encouraging to the pathetic-looking young man. The flight to Pittsburgh had been crowded and turbulent and because they'd been loaded on at the last minute with press clamoring for their attention, they were the subject of much whispered speculation among the other passengers on the plane. Brian had brought along most of the cookies and crackers for Justin since the boy had managed only a few mouthfuls of ginger ale at the airport. Brian had also kept the blanket, keeping it wrapped around the boy as much for privacy as for warmth. The magazines proved a welcome diversion as he had turned down the corners of the ones containing ads he thought were hideous and he pointed out the flaws to Justin, trying to make him laugh at some of the absurd colors schemes and layouts.

Aware of what awaited them upon landing this time, they stayed in their seats until the rest of the passengers gathered their belongings and left. Finally their escort arrived.

"There are a few members of the press outside. Mr. Taylor's lawyer made a statement earlier that there was no conclusive evidence that Mr. Taylor had returned but a few diehards decided to wait anyway. We have security waiting to escort you. We'll do what we can to get you out fast. Do you have a car here or do you need a taxi?"

"My car is in long-term parking."

"May I have the keys? I can have someone retrieve it and meet us out front. Also, I'll need your baggage claim tickets so we can get your luggage. We'll have skycaps get the bags loaded and when everything is ready we'll go straight from here to the car. We have a cart waiting at the gate." The woman rubbed her hands together as if she was anticipating a car chase and Brian wondered just how dull her job usually was that she thought this was fun. He decided not to ask.

Justin leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

"You hold on, honey. We'll have you home in no time. You need some crackers or anything to hold you? I heard you weren’t feeling too good."

Justin shook his head slightly and tried to smile. He still held the lizard Brian had given him as if it were his lifeline.

"Okay," she jangled Brian's keys. "I'm going out to get things rolling. You sit tight ‘til I get back, okay?"

Brian watched her go, then leaned over and pressed a kiss against Justin's head. He had the feeling that the boy was barely holding on. It was odd how well he seemed able to read the kid even though he'd only known him a few days. It was as if that first time he'd seen Justin singing in the Quoin, a connection had been formed between them.

Brian resisted the urge to shake his head at his own foolishness; he could hardly believe his own thoughts. He couldn't explain why he felt the way he did about this kid - as if Justin was the missing piece of Brian Kinney.

Wait until Debbie got a look at him. She wouldn't believe it.

Or Mikey.

Shit.

What were the chances that none of them had read the paper for the last few days?

Yeah, that's what he figured.

The airline rep returned and, surrounded by security, they got Justin to the car. He hesitated only once, when he tried to unwrap himself from the blanket to return it but the woman just smiled and assured him he should keep it.

Justin smiled in return and slid into the warm, waiting jeep, finally relaxing when the door was closed and they left the airport behind.

"Ready to go home?" Brian asked as he hit the accelerator.  
+++++

Although there were signs of press having been outside the loft, thankfully they were gone by the time Brian pulled the Jeep up in front of the building. He parked in an unloading zone and, with Justin’s help, got all of the luggage into the elevator and up to the loft.

Waiting at the door were several bouquets of flowers, and assorted gift baskets all from news agencies. Inside, the answering machine was full with a mixture of requests for interviews and the gang wanting to know what was going on. Brian just turned it off and went back downstairs to move the jeep.

At Brian’s invitation, Justin settled into the loft like he'd lived there all his life. He found glasses and aspirin without even having to question where they might be.

Brian watched, amazed as the blond made himself at home, kicking off his shoes, dropping his luggage and heading for bed with the calm assurance of someone who knows he belongs.

"Hey!"

Justin hesitated at the top step and turned.

"Ah, don't you want some crackers or something to drink?" Brian asked lamely.

Justin shook his head and continued on to the bathroom. After a minute the shower started and a few minutes later the naked boy moved through the bedroom to claim his side of the bed. He dropped onto the mattress and was asleep before Brian could begin his lecture about picking up his clothes.

Brian just shook his head and neatly folded the boy's clothes. He'd save up the lecture for later, sure he'd need it again. It had been a long day and tomorrow didn't look like it would be any easier.

By now he was used to sharing a bed with the boy and was far too tired to think of sleeping on the sofa. He stripped down to his underwear and crawled into bed, falling asleep well before Justin shifted, his body pressing close to Brian’s as they slept.  
+++++

Thankfully, Justin's appetite was back by breakfast and the boy more than made up for what he'd missed the day before. Brian just watched as his companion inhaled five pancakes topped with strawberries, whipped cream and syrup. He didn't want to think about the number of calories involved.

They dined at a cafe close to the lawyer's office so that they would on time for their 9:00 a.m. appointment. A few minutes prior, they left the cafe and strolled to the lawyers, arriving precisely on time.

Twenty minutes later they left, dazed and barely able to process what they'd heard. Justin would have to go to a doctor for DNA testing for the final proof, but given the fact that he had the identifying birthmark; a three-leaf shamrock on his right thigh, the lawyer was convinced that he was indeed the missing heir to the Carlton-Taylor fortune. Pending the successful conclusion of the test, Justin would be given a complete report of his holdings.

"I guess we don't have to worry about covering expenses," Brian joked as they walked back to the jeep. They both kept a cautious eye out for reporters but so far there seemed to be none around. Odd.

"Why don't we go back to the loft and get unpacked? Later we can order some pizza or something?"

Justin nodded, looking away, and only then did Brian realize that in all the confusion, no one had really prepared him for the fact that his parents were dead. Reaching over he placed a hand on Justin's leg.

"I'm sorry."

Justin looked over at him and nodded before looking away again.

Brian was quiet for the rest of the ride back to the loft.  
+++++

Ten months later

 

"How's Justin holding up?" Cynthia asked as she brought Brian his messages and a latte. She'd been coordinating Justin's doctor's appointments and tutor schedule with Brian's work schedule.

"Not too bad. Deb's got him helping out at the diner in the mornings, then he's got lessons and therapy. After he does his homework, he either helps Mikey in the store or he spends the afternoon cooking with Vic. Some days he goes to the park with Lindsey and Gus. Emmett likes to take him shopping, but I try not to think about that too much."

Cynthia looked at the frame behind Brian, the one containing Justin's latest artistic masterpiece – a blue-green abstract with strong yellow swirls. Almost every week there was a different piece of art hanging in that spot. She missed the early ocean scenes; the recent work was all too chaotic for her taste. The kid did have talent, though. She knew Brian was doing everything he could to encourage the young man’s talent by taking him to museums and making sure he had art instruction along with his academics.

"Any breakthroughs yet?" she asked hopefully. It had been almost ten months since Brian brought the young man home and he still hadn't uttered a word. His wounds had healed and scarring was minimal. It was determined that there was no medical reason that the boy could not talk, he just wouldn't. He’d accompanied Brian to the office on occasion and he was shy but eager to help and she had enjoyed his company, even if she did find his silence heartbreaking.

When Brian first brought Justin home to the US, there had been a media frenzy, with constant requests for interviews. When DNA testing proved that Justin was indeed the missing heir to the Carlton-Taylor fortune, the frenzy had only increased and for a while the press followed them everywhere. Brian had stubbornly refused all requests for interviews and Justin, of course, couldn’t respond at all so eventually there were other more interesting stories and they were left alone except for the occasional request for a human interest piece.

Naturally, when the chaos settled, things got harder.

Brian had never been so grateful for his motley group of friends as he was during those first weeks back with Justin. With their assistance, and the invaluable aid of Cynthia, he was able to get Justin the professional help the young man needed.

While he'd been dreading a fight over Justin's inheritance, none of the other family members seemed to be interested in the boy. A few came to see Justin, and the boy was planning a visit to the grandfather in a few months, once he had acclimated a little more.   
The few visits that had occurred had been strained and awkward, and hadn't lasted long because there seemed to be no real connection between Justin and these people. He was a total stranger who happened to be related to them.

Certainly these people couldn't understand the thin, silent man who had been stolen away at such a young age and whose past was such a secret. Even the press hadn't learned the whole truth - only that Justin had worked as a singer in a nightclub and had been the victim of a tragic attack that had left him mute.

Brian's real family wasn't much better. There had been a single visit from his mother demanding information and a few calls from his sister. He'd done his best to ignore them, knowing that their only interest was in gossip fodder; they certainly weren’t interested in doing anything to help Justin.

Debbie, of course, all but adopted the boy on sight. She had wanted Justin to move in with her but at first, Justin wouldn't be separated from Brian. Eventually, they were able to reach a compromise. With Brian's help, Justin bought a duplex closer to the diner and asked Debbie and Vic to move in. With their agreement he put in a door connecting the two living rooms and the only time those doors were closed was when someone wanted privacy.

It worried Brian immensely that both houses would have Debbie’s unmistakable decorating style, but fortunately, Justin seemed to prefer cleaner, simpler lines. They shopped for furniture online to decide on basic styles and colors, and then spent an entire weekend driving to different furniture stores and testing out pieces before making the final decisions. The end result was what Brian privately referred to as dorm room chic – freeform furniture made of light woods with lots of overstuffed cushions. Since Justin lived mostly on the ground floor of the four bedroom house, they converted two of the upstairs bedrooms into a study and a studio. The rooms were small, but adequate for Justin’s needs and he loved to slide around the hardwood floors in socks with no shoes.

Since Debbie and Vic lived in the duplex rent-free in exchange for light caretaker duties and cooking lessons, Michael and Ben moved into Debbie's old house. Brian enjoyed having his loft to himself again, except when Justin came over to visit, which was quite frequently.

Since the duplex had more room than Debbie’s old place, the gang gathered there for Friday night dinners, and Justin had had the back yard fenced and a swing set and sandbox added for Gus. Even Ted had ended up spending a few Saturday afternoons over there, explaining simple financial matters to Justin.

"Brian?" Cynthia interrupted Brian's train of thought. "Has Justin said anything yet?"

"Not a word. His doctor thinks he'll talk again when he's ready. When he feels safe."

"How's the house working out?" Cynthia had been the one to suggest the duplex; she thought it would give Justin some privacy while letting him have Debbie and Vic close enough to make him feel comfortable. She knew Justin really wanted Brian but everyone knew how likely that was – at least now. Someday, perhaps...

"The house is fine. Deb and Vic love the place. They love the kid and they're going to spoil him rotten. Mikey's being driven insane by Deb's old wallpaper. Justin's coming over to the loft tonight for movie night. We've got twelve years of movies to catch up on and he only wants to watch “Yellow Submarine”. Anything else your inquiring mind wants to know before you'll go get the Paulson file?"

"Yeah, when do you plan on introducing Justin to some nice boys so he'll forget all about you?"

"I'm as nice as they get. Now go get the file, and bring me a bagel."  
+++++

The loft was dimly lit and smelled like popcorn. Brian was stretched out on the sofa with Justin curled against him. They were celebrating Justin's latest academic success - his completion of 8th grade equivalencies. His handwriting was still sloppy, but his reading comprehension had improved dramatically and he was working on his math.

"Ready for your reward?" Brian asked, placing a kiss on Justin's head. He refused to admit to himself how much he enjoyed these movie nights, especially the part where he got to hold Justin in his arms for two hours with no distractions.

Justin looked up and nodded, eyes bright.

Brian reached down and pressed a control, starting the movie. The television screen brightened and after a few seconds, the DVD started to play.

Justin's body stiffed with recognition.

"You know what this is?"

Justin nodded, eyes locked on the screen.

The music continued, the movie started. Black and white images flickered across the huge screen, a young girl singing words of longing.

Justin held on tightly to Brian and watched the story unfold, the popcorn forgotten, the stuffed lizard, tossed aside.

As the ending credits played out, Justin lifted his head and pressed his lips against Brian's, his tongue teasing and caressing.

Brian ran his hands up and down the boy's back, pulling him closer until they were moving against each other in a dangerous rhythm.

"Time to go home, little bird blue," Brian said, his voice uneven. He pushed the boy away, needing the distance. It would be so easy for him to give in, but the boy wasn’t ready. Not yet. Not until he was comfortable enough to speak. Brian wouldn’t even consider taking him to bed until then.

Justin stood up, holding out his hand to Brian. Brian took the hand and started to sit up. For just a moment their eyes met.

Justin leaned down to him, a shy smile on his face as he whispered, "there's no place like home."

::end::


End file.
